Chapter 13 He Wanted Control. But I Took The Mic
Harper's POV,
I made it exactly three steps out of Crew's hospital room before my phone rang.
Maya.
"Tell me you're not still at the hospital," she said without preamble.
"I'm leaving now."
"Good. Get to my office. We have ninety minutes before Joel's press conference and we need a plan."
"I already have a plan."
"Harper–"
"I'm going to be there." I pushed through the hospital exit doors into the cold pre-dawn air.
"At the press conference. I'm showing up."
Silence on the other end.
"That's either brilliant or absolutely insane." She finally said.
"Probably both." I spotted a taxi and flagged it down.
"Pick me up in an hour. I need to shower and change first."
"Harper, are you sure about this? Once you show up, there's no taking it back. You're going to be on camera, answering questions, facing Joel in front of the entire Seattle media."
"I know." I climbed into the taxi and gave the driver Maya's address.
"That's exactly why I'm doing it. Joel wants to control the narrative? Fine. Let him try."
….
An hour and 5 Mins later,
I was standing in Maya's living room wearing black jeans, a crisp white button-down, and the most armor-like blazer I owned.
My hair was pulled back, makeup minimal but perfect. I looked professional. Powerful. Nothing like the girl in the green dress who'd watched her boyfriend collapse last night.
"Okay," Maya said, pacing in front of me with her tablet.
"Joel's press conference is at the Fairmont. Hotel conference room, probably twenty to thirty media outlets confirmed. He's positioned it as a 'personal statement' but we all know what that means."
"He's going to trash Crew and try to save me." I checked my reflection one more time. "Paint himself as the concerned ex-boyfriend who saw the signs."
"Exactly." Maya stopped pacing. "So what's your play?"
"I walk in. Sit in the back. Then let him talk." I met her eyes. "And then when he's done, when he asks for questions, I stand up and I speak."
"And say what?"
"The truth." I grabbed my bag.
"That I'm not the helpless victim he wants me to be. That Crew is getting help. And that Joel doesn't get to rewrite our history just because his new life isn't working out."
Maya studied me for a long moment. Then she smiled. "You know what? This might actually work. You look terrifying in the best way."
"Perfect then. Let's go ruin Joel's moment."
….
The Fairmont conference room was already packed when we arrived.
Cameras on tripods lined the back wall, reporters with notebooks filled the rows of chairs, and there at the front, behind a podium with microphones, was a large backdrop with the Seattle Storm logo.
Joel wasn't there yet, but I could feel his presence like a storm about to break.
Maya and I slipped in through the side door and took seats in the very last row. A few reporters glanced back at us, did double-takes when they recognized me, and immediately started whispering.
"They know you're here," Maya muttered. "Half the room just turned around."
"Perfect." I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app.
"Start recording when he gets to the part about being worried for my safety."
Maya stared at me. "You're recording this?"
"Every word." I kept my eyes on the empty podium. "Joel wants to control the story? I'm making sure I have receipts."
Five minutes later, Joel walked in.
He looked… good. Of course he did.
Perfectly tailored navy suit, hair styled, just the right amount of concern on his face. He was flanked by his agent and the Storm's PR director, both of them looking serious and supportive.
He stepped up to the podium, adjusted the microphones, and the room went silent.
"Thank you all for coming," Joel began, his voice steady and sincere.
"I know this is unusual, calling a press conference about something personal. But given the events of last night and the media speculation, I felt it was important to speak directly about my concerns."
Here we go.
"As many of you know, Harper Sinclair and I were together for ten years. We built a life together, supported each other through challenges, and I cared deeply about her happiness and wellbeing."
Past tense. How convenient.
"When our relationship ended six months ago, it was incredibly difficult for both of us. But I wanted Harper to have the opportunity to find her own path, to discover what made her happy outside of our relationship."
I nearly laughed out loud. He was actually trying to make the breakup sound noble.
"So when I heard she was dating Crew Lawson, I was surprised but hopeful. I wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with me."
Several reporters were nodding along, buying every word.
"But over the past few months, I've watched from a distance with growing concern. Crew Lawson has a reputation; multiple suspensions, a history of violence on the ice, and as we learned last night, a serious substance abuse problem."
The room erupted in camera clicks and frantic note-taking.
"I reached out to Harper several times to express my concerns. As someone who cares about her, who spent a decade of my life loving her, I felt I had a responsibility to make sure she was safe."
My hands clenched in my lap. Maya put a steadying hand on my arm.
"Last night's events at the charity gala confirmed my worst fears. Crew Lawson collapsed from what's being reported as a drug overdose. And Harper–" His voice caught, perfectly timed.
"Harper was there. She's been there, watching him spiral, and I'm afraid she's in over her head with a man who needs serious help."
"Oh, that MOTHERFUCKER," Maya hissed under her breath.
"So I'm standing here today, not to attack Crew or to insert myself where I don't belong, but to publicly say what I should have said weeks ago: Harper, if you're watching this, I'm worried about you. You deserve better than being dragged through this nightmare. You deserve someone who will put you first, who will protect you, not someone who puts you in danger."
The cameras flashed like lightning.
"I know we're not together anymore. I know you've moved on. But I'm asking you, as someone who still cares, please don't let loyalty to Crew Lawson destroy your life the way it's destroying his."
He paused, letting that land.
"I'll take a few questions now."
Hands shot up across the room. Joel pointed to a reporter in the front row.
"Joel, are you suggesting that Harper knew about Crew's drug use?"
"I can't speak to what she knew or didn't know. But I do know that the people closest to addicts often see the signs and feel powerless to act. My concern is that Harper might be in that position now."
Another reporter: "Do you think their relationship is genuine or a publicity stunt?"
Joel hesitated, just long enough to look thoughtful. "I think Harper is a genuine person who deserves genuine love. Whether she's found that with Crew Lawson, only she can answer."
The implication was clear: she hasn't.
"One more question," Joel's agent cut in.
A reporter near the middle stood. "Joel, there are rumors that you've been trying to contact Harper repeatedly. Some people are questioning your motives–"
"My only motive is concern for someone I care about," Joel interrupted smoothly. "If that makes me look bad, I'll accept that. But I'd rather be honest about my worries than stay silent and watch her get hurt."
He was good. I had to give him that.
He'd positioned himself as the noble ex, the concerned friend, the guy who just wanted to protect me from the dangerous addict I'd foolishly fallen for.
"Thank you all for your time," Joel concluded. "I won't be taking any further questions, but I hope Harper knows my door is always open if she needs support."
He stepped back from the podium and reporters immediately started shouting more questions. His agent and PR director moved to usher him toward the side exit.
That's when I stood up.
"Actually," I said, my voice cutting through the chaos. "I have something to say."
Every head in the room whipped around.
Joel froze halfway to the exit, his face going pale when he saw me.
"Harper," his agent said quickly. "This isn't the appropriate venue–"
"No, I think it's the perfect venue."
I started walking down the center aisle toward the podium.
"Since Joel just spent ten minutes talking about me, I figured I should get a chance to speak for myself."